


The Art of Bad Luck

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Canon Related, F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: Any fool can have bad luck; the art consists in knowing how to exploit it. Frank WedekindAn entrements - or palate cleanser between Unnatural Habits and Deaf Defying Feats. (Murder Under the Mistletoe doesn't count, it's practically a Canon Adjacent story anyway)





	The Art of Bad Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I had planned for this fun bit of business for a couple of weeks now. I had no idea that it would turn out to be such a Friday the thirteenth with all that's going on. So, consider this bit of frothy business my love letter to all of the fanfic writers out there. I love you all, keep writing and sharing your stories. The world needs more magic these days, not less.

“So, you called me because Dot has Triskaidekaphobia?”

“Paraskevidekatriaphobia, actually.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to recall his rusty knowledge of Greek

“Wait, she’s afraid of Friday the thirteenth?”

“Very good Jack! I’m impressed. And sadly, yes. Seems it comes from her mother, something about Good Friday, I think. Regardless, I am here in Mount Eliza and my dear friend’s visiting cousin has gone missing under what are becoming increasingly odd circumstances.”

“And once again, you are assuming that I don’t have any other pressing police business?”

“Now Jack, you can’t be working on anything important like a murder, or else Hugh would have let that slip. So, that just leaves the Ferguson jewelry heist and you know perfectly well the son-in-law did it and that you won’t be able to prove it until Jemimah’s poor dog relieves himself of the key evidence. So, what do you say?”

Jack shuddered at the reminder of the dog sitting forlornly at Collins’s feet. His Constable was becoming rather attached to what was likely the harbinger of stolen goods. All Jack could imagine were the Ferguson jewels appearing one walk around the block at a time. He did not relish being the one to take poor Mr. Snugglesworth on such a walk and needing to collect the evidence to bring back to the station.

“Mount Eliza you say? I suppose it isn’t quite as far as when you dragged me to Queenscliff, so I could be there this evening.”

“That’s the spirit, Jack! I’ll meet you at the station when you arrive. It is a seaside town, so don’t forget a bathing costume. I don’t anticipate we’ll need to search for daggers in the bay, but one does like to be prepared. As I said, things are rather peculiar out here. Besides, Queenscliff was rather memorable, wasn’t it?”

Jack felt the heat at his collar. The late-night case discussions in Phryne’s rooms at the McNaster’s had definitely brought them far closer than anticipated, and after they returned—soaking wet—from their midnight investigation, to a quiet household, they very nearly forgot themselves as they dried by the fire.

Jack had imagined that night fondly, and occasionally with some level of urgency when home alone in the privacy of his own bedroom. And once in his parlor. And that time in the kitchen waiting on a batch of biscuits.

“Yes, Miss Fisher, I believe we worked very well together to take down Mr. McNaster.”

She tried to hide it, but a small grunt of frustration came across the telephone lines with aching clarity. Jack grimaced at his own ability to deflect her attentions. It wasn’t as if he wanted to at this stage. In fact, he could think of no one better to spend an evening with at a seaside resort than the inimitable Miss Fisher. Perhaps he could save the moment. He lowered his voice a notch so as to keep his words for her ears only. He even managed not to stammer too much.

“In particular, I found our after-hours explorations to be particularly illuminating.”

“Why yes, Jack I believe they provided incredibly compelling information. Perhaps something we might be able to explore more… thoroughly… this evening?”

Jack was alone in his office, so he felt no need to hide the small smile that danced across his lips. Miss Fisher was fully aware of his attraction for her after their last case, when he had almost kissed her in the foyer after that awful night with Sanderson and Fletcher. Her flirtatious comments had remained a constant in their interactions, so he was fairly certain their feelings were mutual. They hadn’t spoken of that moment directly since then, but when did they ever speak directly when it came their partnership, relationship, or whatever it was they had between them?

“I look forward to it, Miss Fisher.”

“Mmm, as do I, Jack.”

Four simple words and Jack had the impression that she was breaking the indecency laws in three different ways. He could feel his body responding in an equally indecent manner.

“Until tonight then.”

Jack tried to mask it, but he felt the strain in his voice must have been obvious to her. He could practically see the wicked smile on her lips. Her beautiful, luscious, delicious lips.

“Until tonight.”

Jack couldn’t be positive and it might have just been wishful thinking, but he thought she sounded a little breathless.

Jack rang off and then leaned back in his chair to ponder how swiftly his day had shifted. Not the first time that had happened since he made her acquaintance, but certainly the first time he’d felt this level of anticipation about joining her on an investigation. Alone. In another city. With no Aunt Prudence bursting across any thresholds.

He quickly tidied his desk and let Collins know he’d be assisting the police in Mount Eliza and back tomorrow, the following day at the latest. For a brief moment Collins looked at him in question and Jack answered his unasked query.

“You’ll be a greater help me to me here Collins. After all, Mr. Snugglesworth appears to be our key witness in the Ferguson case. Bringing him with us would only serve as a distraction.”

“Uh, right! Yes, good point sir.” Hugh looked more than a little relieved. Jack wondered if it was related to not having to explain his need to travel on Friday the thirteenth or his affection for the dog. “I will do my best to keep an eye on him, sir. You can count on it! Dot has baked him some sort of special biscuits, sir. Says her mum used them when her brother dared her other brother to swallow a marble. It’s actually rather funny story —”

“Perhaps another time Collins, I need to catch the evening train.”

“Right, absolutely. Anyway, I suspect we’ll have an, er, update by tomorrow, sir, when you return.”

“Excellent work, Collins. Give my regards to Miss Williams.” Jack managed over his shoulder as he raced out the door to collect his overnight kit and make that evening train. He had no intention of racing back to the station the following day for the update on Mr. Snugglesworth’s constitution.

****

Like most policemen who needed to rely on facts and logical deductions to solve crimes, he was not likely to let a little something like Friday the thirteenth influence him. However, when the normally sure-footed Jack arrived at the train station, he tripped on someone’s overnight case, scuffing his favorite Oxfords; had a little boy who wasn’t watching where he was going bump into him, leaving a smudge on his freshly pressed trousers; and then, when he reached the ticketing counter, he was informed that the evening train had just sold out. Just as he was about to ring Miss Fisher to alert her to his predicament, he heard his name grumbled from a familiar voice.

“Inspector, you’re lookin’ a bit bodgier than your usual self. If I didn’t know any better I’d say someone’d tried to put the mock on you.”

“Good evening Albert. Always a pleasure. Just a few minor inconveniences at the moment… have you been here the entire time?”

“Yeah, Miss Fisher suspected the tickets might sell out for tonight, so she sent me over to pick one up for you. Appears you are essential to her latest case.”

The smirk Bert gave him let him know exactly why he thought Miss Fisher might want him joining her for the case. Jack did his best to not reveal his own feelings on the matter, but he found he was having a tough time concealing his smile. He cleared his throat to give himself a minute to compose himself before responding.

“Right then. Thank you, Albert, for the ticket. I should probably head out to the platform.” Jack fought the urge to straighten his tie and focused all of his attention on placing the ticket into his jacket pocket. He didn’t’ even realize his palm had become sweaty until he shifted his suitcase from one hand to the other.  

“Of course, Inspector. Oh, and Miss Fisher had Dottie grab a few more essentials for her. They’re in this satchel here.”

At that moment, the conductor announced boarding, so Jack thanked Bert, took the bag and headed towards the platform. It wasn’t until he’d situated himself on the train that he realized Bert had winked at him when he handed him the elaborately knitted bag. He briefly wrestled with his sense of propriety, after all the satchel was not intended for him, but his curiosity had been piqued.

He decided a quick glance inside was a fair compromise. He would resist the urge to examine the bag and rely on his glance to satiate his curiosity. He mentally counted to three and then popped open the satchel. He caught a whiff of Phryne’s perfume, a glance of ivory lace and blue satin, and could just make out the edge of a black case shaped curiously like a clamshell when the porter arrived with the whiskey he’d ordered.

He quickly closed the satchel and set it aside. The scenery leading to Mount Eliza could well have been breathtaking, but Jack couldn’t have told you what it looked like. He spent most of his journey with his eyes closed, imagining the feel of the lace and satin against his rough hands, savoring the intoxicating scent of French perfume that was far more in his mind than actually lingering in his nose, and pondering just what a black clamshell case might hold. He couldn’t ever recall feeling simultaneously content, aroused, and nervous at the same time. He lazily sipped his whiskey and began to wonder if thirteen might be a lucky number after all.

True to her word, when he stepped out of the train station there was the familiar fiery red of the Hispano-Suiza and a vision in tweed standing up in it and waving to him. The sun had just begun to set, and Jack had to pause a moment to drink in the scene. She was always beautiful, but there were times like this when she literally took his breath away. The sun off the clouds was creating a spectacular backdrop of coral, pink, and lavender that framed her like a painting.

He sauntered over to her, wanting the moment to last.

“Hello, Jack!”

“Miss Fisher.”

He looked up at her through his long blonde lashes and she looked down at him and they stayed that way for longer than was truly necessary.

“Delighted to meet you inspector, I’m the friend with the missing cousin.”

Jack was snapped out of Phryne’s spell by a throaty voice that emerged from dangerously close to him. He looked down from Phryne to see she had a passenger in the car. From his vantage point, she was composed mostly of impossibly long lashes that fluttered over dark brown eyes and an elegant hand that reached out to shake his own.

“Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, may I present to you, Lady Madeleine Pontellier.”

“Don’t you dare call me that, everyone worth knowing calls me Maddy.”

“Miss Pontellier, pleased to meet you, although I understand these are not the best of circumstances. Once we get to the estate you can fill me in on your poor cousin.”

“Oh, he is deliciously cool drink of water, Phryne. I can see why you’ve been hiding him. Although Jack, can I call you Jack? We’ll need to work on the formalities.”

“I told you Maddy, it will take a near death experience for him to call you by your name.”

“Which, with dear Phryne’s driving, might be sooner rather than later.”

“Ah, I couldn’t have said it better myself. Miss Pontellier appears to be of keen insight.”

Phryne shot them both a look but was far too amused to be truly cross with them.

Jack continued. “And, as for my cousin, that’s a tale best told over cocktails. Right Phryne, darling?”

“Yes, I agree completely, Maddy. So, let’s get to it!”

“Miss Fisher, I have the satchel that you asked Mr. Johnson to bring to the station.”

Phryne looked like the cat who found the cream as she took it from him.

“Most excellent! I believe these items will be critical to this evening’s investigations.”

Jack was so busy devouring her words and their implications that he all but missed the eye roll that Maddy gave them both.

Phryne set the satchel and Jack’s overnight bag in the boot of the car before she turned to them both with a twinkle of pure mischief before whisking them off at top speed towards the estate where they would be staying. Phryne had to deftly maneuver under a ladder to avoid an oncoming car just as they were leaving the area of the town. A quirky incident on any other day, but today was no ordinary day.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short, but I think I am going to need those three chapters now to get through these quirky events. Bear with me!


End file.
